


In sha Allah (If God Wills)

by Erdariel



Category: Robin of Sherwood (TV 1984)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, How Do I Tag, Mind Control, One Shot, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:13:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27137122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erdariel/pseuds/Erdariel
Summary: The Order of Assassins sends Nasir to kill an English crusader, Baron Simon de Belleme. It really does not go as planned.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 7





	In sha Allah (If God Wills)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written and posted on tumblr for Whumptober2020 prompt 15 - Into the Unknown/Possession. I've modified the wording to a more natural one here and there, but story-wise there's no changes.
> 
> The lovely Talvenhenki, who is not in the fandom but has patiently listened to me rambling on about it, came up with the title!

Eight bodyguards. Nasir frowned. His target - some English lord, Bellame or Belleme or something, yes, Belleme it was - had eight bodyguards. It was marginally possible he could survive a fight with all of them, but it was far more likely he'd die in their hands.

Well, he decided, then he would die. He had his orders. Belleme was a dangerous and cruel man, even more so than most of their enemies. Nasir had been given the mission to eliminate him, and he would. If he died doing so, his comrades - his brothers - would see to it that he would be buried properly and honorably. The fate of his soul would be, as it had always been, up to Allah.

He prepared himself and drew both his swords. When Belleme and his guards passed the alley he'd been in, Nasir rushed out. He barely noticed the guard directly on his way falling, cut down by his sword. He continued straight towards his target, seeing in the corner of his eye the other guards drawing their swords. There'd be a sword stabbed to his back before he'd get the chance to turn around and fight them, but that didn't matter, as long as Belleme died too. He smiled triumphantly as he covered the last steps in one leap, reaching with one sword to cut Belleme's head in half. Promises of Paradise filled his mind. Then his life turned into Hell.

Before he could quite reach Belleme, before his sword could fall to its mark, he stopped as if he'd run into an invisible wall. He tried to stumble backwards, but found he couldn't move in that direction either. He was frozen in place, completely unable to move no matter how hard he tried.

Belleme stepped calmly backwards. Nasir felt cold, sharp steel on his neck and heard one of the guards say something in that incomprehensible language of theirs. Belleme said something and gestured. Nasir couldn't understand the words, but the gesture clearly meant "No, put away the sword". Nasir's eyes widened. The man had a reputation of cruelty. Why would he spare his life? Unless he had something even worse in mind.

Now Belleme came closer. He took Nasir's swords from his hands and handed them to one guard. Then Nasir's eyes met Belleme's. For one brief moment Nasir registered the infinitely deep coldness and cruelty in those eyes. The moment sped past. His own mind was pushed back, and his body became a tool of Belleme's will.

Baron Simon de Belleme released the spell holding the saracen still. The man lost his balance and fell down on his face with a yelp.

"Get up", he said.

The man did. Belleme smiled. It worked, just as intended! It didn't matter that his victim didn't speak a word of English, French, or any other civilized language. He would still obey Belleme's every order exactly.

"What is your name?" Belleme asked.

Helpless rage shone in the saracen's eyes as the spell compelled him to answer. "Nasir Malik Kenal I-"

"Enough. Nasir. Very well." Belleme turned to one of his bodyguards. "Give him back his swords. No, you dimwit, of course he won't hurt me." A cold, serpent-like smile crept on his lips. "He shall replace the guard he killed, for now."

Nasir strained and fought with all his will against the strange force that held him, but it was for nothing. His body moved against his will, taking the place of the fallen guard, following de Belleme as loyally as one of the baron's own men.

The more Nasir fought, the more the force of the spell pushed back. It didn't take long for what was left of Nasir's consciousness to be cornered, with nowhere further to retreat, besieged by the spell that controlled him. Nasir understood it and ceased fighting. The spell left him alone then, trapped in the furthest corner of his mind. There Nasir could barely tell what was happening around him, and that much only when he was actively trying to do so. When he wasn't, he might as well have been locked in a dark and soundless cell, with nothing but his own thoughts for company.

Nasir soon found he preferred the soft, dark unawareness to the struggle of seeing and hearing. It was draining to try to observe his surroundings for long, and besides, what use was it to know about them anyway? The flashes he caught rarely made much sense, and even when they did, they were nothing he wanted to see. He remained in the baron's hands, surrounded by strangers he had nothing in common with.

At first he sometimes wondered why the Order had sent no one to kill him. After all, that was how they dealt with traitors. Then, eventually, it occurred to Nasir that Belleme had spared his life because he wanted him alive, and so he had probably taken care to ensure that Nasir would also stay that way, for as long as he needed. And if all Nasir's skill had been useless against Belleme, what chance would his brothers have?

Time passed. Nasir didn't try to keep any track of it. All he knew was that one day, when he once again spent a brief while trying to make sense of what was happening around him, the landscape he saw no longer resembled his homeland. His heart sank when he saw it; up until then he'd held onto some hope of being freed or, if that was not possible, killed. Now he knew it would not happen. He was too far away, now, beyond the Order's easy reach. To attempt to kill him had become more trouble than it would be worth for them. He was on his own.

The dark unawareness ended all at once. At first Nasir was so overwhelmed by the sheer amount of sensations – sight, sounds, smells, all of them so much more vibrant than anything he'd experienced in a long time – that it took him a while to understand what it meant. The spell was gone. He was free.

Nasir had dreamt of it for so long, but now that it was true, it didn't feel good. Instead, he realized that he was scared. He was alone, in a strange place, in a strange land, and the person who'd kept him alive until now had no use for him anymore. There was no one he knew here, no one he could turn to for help.

All of it could wait until later. What he had to do right now was get out of the castle. Nasir didn't know why Belleme had spared his life – certainly killing him would have been just as easy and less risky – but he wasn't about to give him time to change his mind.

A moment of thinking brought a vague memory of the layout of the castle. The memory wasn't Nasir's own, not really, and it was fading quickly now, but that didn't bother him. It let him know the way out, and that was what mattered.

He found that he was dressed in a combination of chainmail and leather armour. His swords were in their sheaths on a table, and next to them was laid a recurve bow and a quiverful of arrows. Good. At least now he wouldn't have to go out of his way to get weapons for himself. It only took him a short moment to arm himself. Then he left the room, walking the dark corridors of a castle familiar from memories that weren't truly his.

He didn’t get far before he heard running footsteps coming towards him. Out of curiosity, he stopped to wait and see who it was.

It was a young man, pale and dark-haired, followed by a young red-haired woman in a white dress. Nasir didn’t know the man, but the other memories seemed to recognize him instantly. A danger. An enemy.

The two stopped when they spotted Nasir. The man shoved the woman back, almost protectively. Nasir didn’t question the other memories for identifying the man as an enemy. He had no friends here, anyway. He drew his swords. Cautiously, the young man drew his.

Later they would both appreciate the irony of the fight. Neither wanted to take the risk, yet both thought it necessary for his escape. Now, though, neither of them knew it. They attacked each other.

The battle went back and forth for a bit, and Nasir noticed the young man was almost his equal with a sword. Almost, but not quite. Soon enough Nasir had both his swords resting on the man’s shoulders and was about to cut his head off.

Then Nasir heard more noise from the hallway leading outside. Running footsteps again, and shouts. He turned to look, forgetting his enemy for a moment.

From around the corner came three men. Two were strangers, but one, a tall man with wild hair and a bushy beard, Nasir was certain he’d seen before. But had he been a friend, an enemy, or something in between? That Nasir couldn’t tell.

One of the other men had a drawn bow in his hands, with the arrow pointed at Nasir. It was clear that the man Nasir had been fighting was somehow dear to them.

For a brief moment, Nasir considered turning back and killing his enemy. He’d die too, he would not have the time to dodge the arrow, but the young man would go down with him. Then he realized that he’d been turned away, with his swords lowered, for a good while, and the man had not used the opportunity to attack him, or even escape. Instead he seemed to be arguing with the three men who’d interrupted the fight. Their language was strange, and Nasir didn’t understand what was being said.

The young man backed a little from the reach of Nasir’s swords. Nasir let him. Mercy for mercy; intentionally or not, the man had spared Nasir’s life. Now Nasir would spare his.

The young man reached for the young woman. She took his hand, and they ran past Nasir and to their… friends?

Nasir chose it was best not to follow them. There were other ways out, too, and he felt like following them would be asking for trouble.

Instead he turned and went deeper into the castle. It wasn’t until he looked into a chamber that had in the other memories always been locked and caught a glimpse of Baron de Belleme’s corpse, that he realized how he had been freed. It was then that he also realized the memories he had that weren’t his own were a lingering effect of the spell, and perhaps not trustworthy. The young man he’d fought had been the baron’s enemy, yes, but maybe he shouldn’t have been Nasir’s enemy.

In fact, he could have been an ally, and right now an ally was something Nasir definitely needed. If he went after the man now, could he fix things? Was there some way he could prove his worth as an ally? He did not speak or even really understand the language of this land. How could he make them believe, after what had just happened, that he didn't wish to be their enemy?

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments are appreciated!


End file.
